An Iris of Noble Character
by TheRealGalwayGirl
Summary: "She was a woman of noble character." While visiting his parents Barry gains new insight into his wife's character by way of what was lost.


It was a calm but beautifully sunny day as Barry Allen headed into the cemetery. He liked to come here to visit his parents, always armed with several colourful bunches of flowers. His mother loved flowers, flowers of all kinds. Their house always had at least one vase full of them. But as he made his usual pilgrimage through the Central City cemetery where his parents had been laid to rest he noticed a new headstone a few rows before his parents' resting places. Barry had been away for a little while, having a much-deserved honeymoon with his new wife after their interrupted wedding and the events on Earth X. But there was something about this headstone that drew him in. It called to him, made him pause before it.

 _Mercedes Hannah Evans 1994-2017_

 _A loving daughter, friend, and teacher_

 _She was a woman of noble character. Proverbs 31:10-31_

Beneath the inscription were several verses from the biblical book of Proverbs, and it was the first verse struck a chord deep within Barry's heart.

 _A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies._

Iris West-Allen was worth more than even diamonds or gold in Barry's eyes. She was priceless to him. She was his world. His everything and everything could not be valued. She was a noblewoman to him. He knelt down in front of the stone, taking care on the freshly placed dirt as he continued to read.

 _Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value._

The day Barry didn't trust in Iris West-Allen would be the day that pigs flew... although he probably shouldn't say that since anything was possible these days. Except not trusting Iris. Never ever ever! Never!

 _She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life._

She has yet to bring him serious harm. Or any harm intentionally really, except for never mind that's in the past.

 _She selects wool and flax and works with eager hands._

Iris would not stop until the job was done, their target in the hands of the police and Barry was back in her arms.

 _She is like the merchant ships, bringing her food from afar._

Her obsession with those damned Bowen mangoes was something Barry would never understand. They were far better mangoes that were easier to find, but no, she has to love and obsess over the impossible to get and funny tasting ones. That's Iris for ya.

 _She gets up while it is still night; she provides food for her family and portions for her female servants._

She would do anything for him, Bar knew that too. She sat with him through his nine-month coma and much worse since, all before they were even together and married. She looked after him and she cared for him and for that Barry was eternally grateful.

 _She considers a field and buys it; out of her earnings she plants a vineyard._

If only Central City was an ideal climate for growing a mango tree. Or fifty-three. Or two hundred and twelve. Or eight hundred and forty-eight! Then they would be talking in mango seasons. But alas, mangoes were a tropical fruit and Central City was not known as a tropical paradise.

 _She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks._

They do enjoy working out together. She was a strong woman as he discovered when they were younger, and she rearranged her entire bedroom full of really heavy oak wood furniture. Not even Joe could lift most of it on his own.

 _She sees that her trading is profitable, and her lamp does not go out at night._

They both work hard, but Iris works her butt off trying to be a successful journalist, and her hard work is paying off with the number of front page articles she had. And not all of them were Flash-related.

 _In her hand she holds the distaff and grasps the spindle with her fingers._

Iris West-Allen cannot sew. Not even a button or a simple straight stitch. She was a woman of many talents, but sewing was not one of them.

 _She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy._

Her kindness she gets from her mother, Joe insisted. But in his eyes, his new wife is more than just kind. She is generous, loving, caring and all those things. She'd help everyone from the greatest to the least if she could.

 _When it snows, she has no fear for her household; for all of them are clothed in scarlet._

Together they were warm. She loves curling into his Speed heat. And he liked curling into her too. A win for all!

 _She makes coverings for her bed; she is clothed in fine linen and purple._

Perhaps not fine linen and purple, but she always looked amazing in whatever she wore.

 _Her husband is respected at the city gate, where he takes his seat among the elders of the land._

One could say he was respected by the people of Central City, both as Barry Allen and as the Flash. But his wife was loved. Probably because she smiled at everyone and anyone.

 _She makes linen garments and sells them, and supplies the merchants with sashes._

She still can't sew. But then again neither could he. They had Cisco for those kinds of problems.

 _She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come._

She could not take off the strength and the dignity that she wore, it was a skin that permeates through to the shining light in her eyes. She does laugh at what is to come because they were part of the unstoppable Team Flash/Kid Flash Vibe whatever name took their fancy that day.

 _She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue._

She and the rest of the team were always helpful whenever he and Wally were on a mission. He always heeded her advice because she had yet to fail him. Except for that one ti... never mind.

 _She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness._

Iris. Idle? Impossible. Did those words even work in the same sentence? That woman works until she drops half the time, but then again so did he. That was part of what made them so compatible.

 _Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: "Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all."_

Their children would one day, and until forever ends he **will** praise her and love her with all he had.

 _Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised._

Iris would always be beautiful in his eyes. Other beauty might fade, but hers grew with each passing day. And he knew she feared the Lord. It's all she had when he was broken after a fight with a meta that almost left him dead.

 _Honour her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate._

"I will always honour her," he whispered to the headstone, I will always praise her. And I **will** always love her."

He pulled one of the flowers out of the bunch in his arms, a yellow gerbera, and laid it in front of the stone. It was the least he could do for the deceased woman of his age.

"They were her favourite," a sad voice noted from behind him. A blonde man with an armful of colourful gerberas smiled sadly at him.

"Sorry, I just noticed the engraving and..." Barry began but was cut off by the other man.

"It's all right. She wouldn't mind," he shrugged as sadness filled his soft voice, "Proverbs was always her favourite. The Psalms were always mine."

Barry nodded awkwardly as he pulled himself up.

"How long have you been married?" The blonde man asked suddenly, catching a glimpse of Barry's new ring.

"Two weeks. Wonderful woman." Barry smiled softly at the thought of his Iris. Because she was _his_ Iris now. His to love forever.

The man smiled again, "two weeks she's been gone. We were only married four years."

Barry's heart broke for the man before him, aching for his lost love.

"Treasure her, will you?" He asked, "for me and for 'Cedes?" His blue eyes shone with the desperation of a man who had lost everything. He looked exactly as Barry would feel should have ever have to go through the pain and torment of actually losing Iris.

"I will," Barry promised the stranger and himself. He paused before pulling a mauve iris out of his own bunch of flowers, "my wife's name is Iris. I think your wife would like this," Barry handed over the flower.

The blonde took it, "our daughter's name is Iris," he smiled, placing the flower on the grave next to Barry's yellow gerbera.

Barry nodded his parting and left the man to sit with his wife, remembering to cherish his wonderful, beautiful, and honourable wife. He was fully aware of their mortality, which only made him want to love her more. Which he did.

A.N: I wrote a Flash Fic‽ You bet I just did! Yay! I've been wanting to do this for ages, but I just haven't found anything inspiring, then in my quiet time it was just like, BAM! Iris is the wife of noble character from Proverbs, or at least I believe that she tries to be. Also, **MANGOES!**

Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything or anyone. Cookies for anyone who can guess where the man and his wife come from.


End file.
